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THE CAPTIVE STAG
Ellin Anderson
At four o'clock, the harsh alarm
Kicked through my sleep, and, half-awake,
I brought my coffee to the farm
By the quiet lake,
And there, within the azure gloom,
I saw you raise your velvet crown
Above an elder bush in bloom,
As you stared me down
Through palisades of diamond mesh
Like glass reduced to silver wire;
And though the summer dawn was fresh,
Hints of autumn fire
Leapt in your brown eyes as you took
Wild roses from my outstretched palm,
And held me with a solemn look —
Curious and calm.
It spoke of aeons we had shared
Before a nation had a name,
Two races intimately paired
When no deer was tame,
When freckled skin last wore your skin
To comb the heather and the wood
In search of an elusive twin,
And I understood
Why Nature, with a backward glance
Had made me swift, and amply strong
To draw a bow or thrust a lance,
Or to leap along
A craggy stream-bed, with sharp sight
Trained down upon your heart-shaped track,
Intent upon the swifter flight
Of the thing I lack.
I saw you sniff the wind that stirred
Your sleek red coat, whose amber hue
Rose through the forest where one bird
Chanted as he flew;
And, bound for labor's narrow cage,
I raised my steaming coffee cup
In honor of another age.
Then, the sun came up
Between your horns — a disk of flame
That made each tine a golden ray,
And made your skin and mine the same
As I walked away.
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